


Haunt

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is haunted by memories of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the shortest thing I’ve ever written (yay me!). It was inspired by “The Haunting” by Anberlin (seriously listen to it) and something that I needed to get out. So...here’s what happened. Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

The Doctor trudged up the hill, the slightly damp grass squelching under his feet. The full moon lurked behind the clouds, peeking out just enough to cast his solitary shadow out before him. A painful reminder of how alone he was. He pushed the heartache down deep, trying to keep it buried, hidden...unnoticed. Where it belonged. 

Flicking his arm out and up in a dramatic fashion so he could look at his gold wrist watch, he closed the remaining distance to his destination. There was enough light that he could just make out the time. Or what time the watch read anyway. It was stuck at quarter past three, again. No matter. He was a Time Lord--he didn't need the stupid thing in the first place.

His green eyes shot upward as the exterior light to the dwelling flickered, then steadied out. He frowned. Taking a deep breath he placed a key in the lock and let the door creak open, a faint breeze rustling his dark hair. He took a moment to straighten his bow tie, steeling himself before he stepped across the threshold.

Closing his eyes, he stepped through the doorway, clenching his fists at his sides. The room was wide and open, yet he instantly felt like he was being smothered. As if simply stepping inside stripped him of his carefully crafted barriers, memories attacked him from every angle. Beautiful smiles, contagious laughter, hands that fit perfectly in his. He twisted his head, grimacing, and tried opening his eyes. Maybe if he looked around and saw that _she_ wasn't actually present, it would be better. Maybe the memories would relent enough to let him breath. How that made sense he couldn't quite...his brain wasn't…

All he knew was he felt like he was drowning. He needed to try something, anything.

Memories that plagued him throughout the day, following him like an extra shadow, were always worse when he came here. Worse in the sense that they were some of the more happier ones and thus twisted the knife in what remained of his soul just a little deeper, like rubbing salt on an open wound.

Something danced in his peripheral vision as he peeked one eye open, right on the edge of where light met shadow in the large, empty room. Nothing. It was nothing.

Nothing but the image of her dancing around the room burned forever in his mind's eye. Twirling around the room, her eyes bright and shining with joy. He shuffled forward, half wishing the image would vanish and half wishing she would glance his way. Just once.

The vision shifted and she was no longer alone. The Doctor ground his jaw, unable to look away as brown joined pink and yellow--the pair moving gracefully around objects in the room despite having eyes only for each other.

He swallowed audibly and forced himself to take a breath, even though intentionally starving himself of air so that he would black out seemed particularly appealing. At least then he wouldn’t have to watch the couple flaunting their happiness and affection right under his nose.

For that's what they were, or had been. A couple. Even if they never gave a name to it out loud. Even if they never announced it to anyone (everyone knew anyway). What had mattered was that _they_ knew. And of course they did. When dancing had turned to _dancing_ there was no denying it. Not that he really ever did to anyone other than himself. He had eventually come to realize that he had been fighting a losing battle. One that he had always struggled with, except in those quiet moments where her heart had beat steadily on top of his, her single beat finding the perfect rhythm with his double.

He longed for those moments. Yearned for them with every fiber of his being. What good was being a Time Lord when you couldn't get back the moments that mattered most? Couldn't change one tiny instance in order to create new moments? Moments that--

He growled, rushing forward and slamming his fists against the nearest surface. He breath came in quick pants that tightened his chest. Anger burned along his veins--at the universe, at all of time and space, at himself.

"Sometimes, Rose Tyler..." He muttered, halting and rolling his tongue around his mouth as if he were tasting each syllable. Her name, once the first thing always on the tip of his tongue had become something foreign. Something now whispered in silences on rare occasions, something that constantly floated around his mind (whether he liked it or not) but was hardly spoken aloud. "Sometimes...I wish you would leave me alone."

Air puffed against the back of his neck and he swore he heard her whisper his name, soft and low, as if she were standing right behind him. Choking back a sob, he turned and slid to the floor.

If only he could stop coming here, then perhaps the pain would eventually dull to something he could tolerate. Any sane person would probably offer him that advice. Stop going. Why bother when it only brings pain instead of peace?

But he couldn't.

He had hoped the change would at least diminish the memories that plagued him. He should have known better. It wouldn’t matter if the interior changed a thousand times. Rose Tyler had made the TARDIS her home just as much as he had. Her ghost would follow him for the rest of his lives.


End file.
